Crazy In Love
by the-academy-isn't
Summary: Max and Fang meet under crazy circumstances, but they manage to fall in love anyway. Until they hit a major roadblock, and discover what it means to truly go insane. All human! Read and Review!
1. Welcome to Hell

**Okay, I know this isn't major Fax, but bear with me, please! This is my first attempt at anything all human. I usually do stuff with wings so this is new to me. Review!**

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><p>I sunk into one of my kitchen chairs, letting out a sigh that I'd been holding in all day. I'd just done the unthinkable, yet so likely: admitting my own mother into a mental hospital.<p>

You probably think I'm a crazy bitch for taking control of her mom's life like that. But see this from my perspective, just for a second, okay? She's been sick for years—since I was sixteen and my father died from a rare type of leukemia—and she's finally become unstable. Unable for me to take care of and still have a life of my own. At twenty-three, I have this whole life ahead of me—a husband, a family, a two-car garage in suburban New Jersey. You know, everything you dream about after an HGTV marathon.

The delusion my mother lives in…I'm not entirely sure what it revolves around. Some days, when I'm feeling particularly helpful, I'll ask her what she means when she says something, and she just laughs—creepily, I may add—and tells me that it'll all come in time. Well, Mom, it may all come together and mean something to_ you_, but as for the rest of us? Try again.

So that's why I've had her admitted: She's dangerous. The things she says, the ideas she comes up with? She could scare someone, hurt someone, get herself arrested by doing something that seems so obviously _right_ to her and her alone. So now my name's signed on the forms—Maxine Martinez, in the sleepiest, sloppiest, saddest cursive, and I'm free to pursue my own life. My mom isn't. But sometimes I think that's the only good thing that's come out of all this, out of this day that's left me drained mentally and physically. Like I said, she's dangerous.

The rest of the week after my mother was admitted was totally uneventful: I did all the normal things, like brushing my teeth and going to my night classes and eating ramen like any traditional college student. But then I got the phone call that changed pretty much everything. Everything for me, for mom, and for the guy she brutally attacked.

Yes, yes, you read that correctly. My mom tried to eat somebody.

Okay, that time I was kidding, but there's a chance it _may_ have come to that. You never know.

I walked into my tiny, ugly-as-hell kitchen. The phone was ringing. I saw the caller id—such a miraculous invention, that is—_GLMS. _Which is short for Glen Landing Mental Sanctuary. Oh _shit._

Because there is no possible way that the hospital that my mentally ill mother is in would call me unless she either died or did something crazy. Oh, god, this won't end well.

I picked up the phone and said hello. _—_

"Miss Martinez?" The voice on the other end seemed more stressed than the average receptionist. Not good. _Not_ good at all.

"Yes, she's here, may I help you?" Points to Max for keeping her cool.

"I'm afraid we have some bad news about your mother, Valencia Martinez…She's attacked someone. I need you to come in immediately. You are her emergency contact, correct, Miss?"

Well, at least I was mentally prepared.

"Right away." And then I was grabbing my keys, jumping into my car, and speeding down the highway. I could not believe this. Maybe she was just adjusting wrong?

Or maybe it was something else.

When I got to the hospital, my mother's doctor, Jennifer Collings, was waiting by the door with a worried expression.

"Max, get in here. Now." She ushered me into an empty conference room off the 300 hallway and started to stare me down. Fabulous. I love death glares.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly a _death_ glare, per say, but more of a,_ the-person-you-put-me-in-charge-of-just-gave-us-all-a-ton-of-work-and-I'm-going-to-blame-you_ glare. Coincidentally, neither glare is considered magical funtimes. Nope.

"Okay, Doc, spill. _What_ did she do?" You might say that I'm being just a tad bit disrespectful, and I wholly agree. But would you be all sunshine and roses if your mother just possibly killed _your_ insurance bill? I think not.

"She had been behaving and adjusting fairly well, as I told you in yesterday's email." Which I hadn't got around to reading yet. "So we let her walk herself to the bathroom after showing her where it was and giving her a set amount of time during which she could be on her own before she had to report back."

I could see where this was going. "So she took a tiny little detour and tried to kill someone, right?"

"Correct, Miss Martinez. Luckily, she was being monitored, so she was stopped before her victim was seriously hurt or even killed. Unluckily, it wasn't a fellow patient who she hurt, it was someone else."

"Oh, God." I sighed, my head in my hands. "Are they going to sue me?"

Dr. Collings laughed, a sure sign that maybe we were getting to the end of this episode. "No, Miss Martinez, you're very lucky. Like I said, almost no damage to be heard of. However, after I speak with you, the police need to ask you a few questions. Just go through the motions, okay?"

I nodded, relieved. But of course, it wasn't over yet. "Dr. Collings? That's not all there is to it, is there?"

She sighed. "Of course not. We need to take measures to see to it that this never happens again. She'll be under extreme watch likely for the rest of her time here, because it was her illness, her incurable illness, that made her act this way. She was mentioning names. Names of people that aren't on the list you supplied of people she knows. I don't suppose she's ever mentioned a Fang or an Angel to you?"

This is where it gets sketchy. "Honestly, Doctor? She used to mention them all the time. They're her imaginary friends, I think. There's no way they really exist. I probably should have told you about them."

The doctor nodded, rubbed her temples, and pursed her lips. "We need to get them out of her head, Miss Martinez. Once she stops believing those people are real, she won't be prompted to attack random young men accompanying their little sisters and she'd actually be on the road to something resembling normalcy."

"Oh, god, so that's how it actually happened? And you're sure they're alright?"

"I'm positive, Miss Ride. They're going to be okay."

I put my head in my hands. Honestly, what was I thinking? How could I have let this happen? This was all my fault, and Dr. Collings knew it, too.

"Okay. Let me talk to the police."

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><p><strong>Okay. I understand how devastatingly boring this must be, but I'm working on it. This is my first all-human. Bear with me please, and review. Last chapter did so terrible that I'm still kind of depressed about it. Now press that button and spend a tiny little minute typing a review!<strong>


	2. Don't Call Her Baby

**Max Ride isn't mine. Welcome to chapter two!**

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><p>Today, I've experienced more awkward things than I think I have all month. I mean, when was the last time you got attacked by a crazy mental patient? Granted, she used to be one of my favorite customers at the Starbucks I cashier for, a few months back. She asked my name, and I told her.<p>

If I had known she was crazy and that she was gonna try and molest me later, I probably wouldn't have done that.

But anyway, the point is, I was about to start making random animal noises just to bridge the gap in conversation.

I was in a conference room, with the cop assigned to the case, the patient's doctor, and the patient's daughter, whose last name was Martinez. When I was introduced as Nicholas Ride, aka Fang, she gawked and said, "Wait. Stop. Pause. Rewind. You're _real_?"

I nodded to say yes. Maybe crazy disease was hereditary.

"So the name Fang…it's real? You aren't just a figment of her imagination?"

"Nope…"

And that's how the conversation started. The doctor had already filled her in on the vague details, and the cops answered any extra questions. They asked if I wanted to press charges.

"Nope. Can I go now?"

"If you have nothing further to say, Mr. Ride, yes, you may leave."

So I left the room. I went and said bye to my little sister, Grace, who was in her for various reasons, one of which is crack. She's my little sister, sure, but she's still nineteen. Old enough to be a druggie, I guess.

On my way out to the parking lot, I stopped. I took a double take.

Sitting in the car next to mine was the Martinez girl. The one who's mom just tried to kill me? Yeah, that one. She was beating her head against the steering wheel. Yeah, crazy was definitely hereditary. There's no way that this girl is sane.

I walked over out of courtesy and respect for the countless espressos I served her mother (now that I think about it, probably not such a great idea) and rapped my knuckles against her passenger's seat window, with my own car keys dangling from my other hand. I motioned for her to unlock the door when she finally stopped trying to give herself a concussion and looked up. She pulled up the stopper thing on the car door, and pushed it open. I stepped in.

"So, Martinez…What's got you down? Not still worrying about my existence, are you?"

"It's Max. Call me Max."

Max Martinez. Her mom must have been big on alliteration back when she was sane.

"Alright, Max, I'm Fang. Nice to meet you again."

She looked up, sighed, and smiled. It was weak, and totally exhausted, but it was a smile nonetheless, and it encouraged me to keep going. "So what's the issue? Problem back at the office?"

She glanced over at her steering wheel. "Kind of, I guess. "

I leaned back sideways against the window. "Then enlighten me, young grasshopper. They've always told me that I'm an exquisite therapist, you know. I could make millions on TV. Hey, here's an idea: you tell me what's up, I fix it. Then I get a talk show and make more money than I can spend, and you marry me, we both retire at twentyfour and never worry about anything ever again."

She really laughed this time, a loud, happy laugh, and instantly it was as if her entire face and body were in better form, less tired and less withdrawn. She was a totally new person.

"We'll see about that, although retirement that young is _really _appealing. Do you really want to know? My mother just attacked you, she's been drawing crazy conclusions in her head, and my car won't start."

Hmm. _We'll see._ Who was the imbecile that said we'll see always means no? I can work with a we'll see. Suddenly, getting this girl to go out with me, even if I _don't _end up marrying her and retiring at twentyfour, is the goal of the day.

"How about this? We forget about the attacking. Okay? Let's wipe it from our memories. I've already forgotten. What are we talking about again?"

She sighed and let out a breath. "But it's not that simple, Fang."

I smiled and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and behind her ear. She looks at me questioningly, as if to say, _way to make a move._

"Oh, but it is. Just put it behind you, alright? We can pretend it never happened. Zap. Gone. Next step: I drive you home. You give me your keys. I come back with my buddy who'll take a look at your automobile, and I take it back to your place."

She looks at me skeptically, her left eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Just because my mother tried to off you doesn't mean I'm going to surrender my car to you."

"I know. Which is why I'm taking you out for ice cream before you fork over the keys, baby."

"Don't call me baby. Where's your car? I know a great place over on East and Carmichael.

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><p><strong>Review, review, review!<strong>


	3. Twelve thirty, PM

Hello, hello, hello. For the record, I changed my username. I'm also thenocturnalchandelier. MR isn't mine.

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><p>It happened in a blur. A crazy blur and then it was over.<p>

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><p>One second I was in the conference room, negotiating plans for my mother's treatment, now revised. Then I was in my car. It wouldn't start. Fang was real, and he was offering to help me.<p>

Then we were at the ice cream place. We laughed and we talked. We _clicked._ Like, love at first banana split. Too good to be true, too cliché for me to even begin to comprehend. This was the stuff of cheesy romance novels, bad Friday night chick flicks. This isn't the type of thing that happens to me, Max.

Then we were back in his car, which smelled of him. I can't describe what he smelled like very well- musky and dark and glamorous.

It was getting dark out, and then we were back at my apartment.

He came up with me. I don't remember inviting him. I probably did, I just don't _remember _it. Yeah, I definitely invited him- my short-term memory simply doesn't go back that far anymore, though.

I shrugged off my hoodie. He took off his.

Red wine for him, white wine for me. It was simple, nonchalant, and casual, nothing to it.

Well, for the first few glasses, at least.

One bottle gone. Two. Three.

Simplicity was out the door.

I was drunk. He was on the way there.

A couple glasses later, maybe a bottle or two, and we were rolling on the floor, bodies mashed together like in some kind of screwed up puzzle. We didn't fit like we thought we were supposed to, but who were we to care?

(We were too drunk and too reckless and each too lost in the other to even think about the elusive form of protection, of safety, known as a _condom_. Foreign to me, the pretty little virgin.)

When I woke up, it was half past noon. I knew that because I could see it on his watch. I was half dressed, and so was Fang. My flat was a mess, empty bottles and spilled alcohol and his boxers on the couch. Oh god. That was when it clicked, when it finally made sense in my mind.

Oh, my god. His _boxers._ On my _couch._

The face of his watch read 12:30.

Holy _God._

_I had a pounding headache, and I just lost my virginity to a figment of my mother's imagination._

I rolled over, shrugging out of Fang's embrace. A little tighter and he'd have squeezed the life out of me. I didn't think about my lack of pants, or his. I simply kept my eyes above the ground and avoided looking at him at all.

I practically flew down the hall, as soundlessly as I could. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants, I locked myself in the bathroom.

I studied my face. I looked normal. I looked like someone who had a rough night- maybe I stayed up late studying or I had a bad dream. Not a single thing about me at the moment screams _Hey, I'm Max, and I literally just lost my virginity to a guy I barely know._

I took that to be a good sign.

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><p>Review, review, review! Yay!<p> 


	4. Drunken Mistake

This starts off in Max's POV but it switches and eventually stays at Fang's. Thanks for the reviews last chapter!

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><p>"Hello?" A voice calls out from the front room. I freeze. He's awake.<p>

In my drunken stupor, my brain fails to register Fang's voice right away, but who else could that be but him?

"Hello?" He calls again.

"In here," I say, although every fiber of my being begs to pretend that I'm not even there.

He stands up, and I can hear him shuffling through the mess of clothes and blankets on my floor. He's probably shrugging something on, with any luck, he's found a pair of pants.

When I woke up, everything hurt.

I wasn't wearing clothes. I had a hangover that could probably kill me if it was of a mind to. And I didn't even know where I was. Can you sat _shit_? I can, and I did.

I called out into the dim morning light of the room, twice. The first time there was no response. So I tried again. The second time, a shaking female voice that breaks on the second word replies. "In here," She says, and then it all comes flooding back to me.

I just had sex with Max, whose mother assaulted me.

Six months ago, this would've been cool, I guess. I work at Starbucks, and Dr. Martinez was a regular. I knew her name, and her caffeinated beverage of choice. We were friends. I guess getting to bang her daughter wouldn't be all that bad. That way if something goes wrong? At least I'm friendly with the in-laws.

Now she's a mental patient and this just keeps getting more and more complicated. I don't want to get up and put on clothes and go talk to Max about what the hell just happened last night. Instead, I want to get up and put on clothes and get the hell out of here. But I go talk to her anyway, grabbing my boxers off of Max's sofa and putting them.

I don't even want to think about what happened last night. Sure, I'm a guy, and what guy isn't willing to do what I just did with Max last night? To the average twenty-seven year old male, this isn't too bad. Who cares about the six years between us or the fact that something could have gone wrong? I don't see the remnants of a condom anywhere, so who's to say that this isn't about to get even more complicated?

Something about all of this seems so wrong. I can't place it but it's there. I don't want to be here but I have to so I suck it up and walk down the hall where Max is supposed to be.

"Hey," I say. "What happened last night?" Even though I pretty much already know.

"I think you already know. It's kind of obvious what happened. Your boxers were on the couch." She replies, and I bite my lip. She's right on the spot. I already know, I just want to make her say it so I don't have to.

"We can pretend it never happened." I say, trying to be reassuring. "I'll get your car fixed and drop it of here. I'll leave the keys in the mailbox and we'll never have to see each other again."

"Okay."

I look at her, so young. She's not far from me, but she's still got that innocence to her that most women at my age lost awhile ago. She's wearing an oversized t-shirt and apparently nothing else, and I realize that the situation can't get much more... obscene than this.

"Were you a virgin?" I ask, even though I don't want to know. What if I ruined that for her?

"Yeah. I think so." She whispers, and I have to strain my ears to hear her.

When I hear that word, my heart stops and my breath catches and I don't think I've ever felt so guilty before in my life. I can't convey that to her, though.

"Were you... saving yourself?" I whisper, just as softly as her.

"No, I don't think I was. It just never happened before." Her eyes are glistening. I've never had a one-night stand like this before.

As soon as I think that, I regret it and wish I could take it back. What happened last night wasn't a one-night stand. It was a drunken mistake.

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><p>Review and make my week. I dare you.<p> 


	5. Steadily Growing

I don't own Starbucks, Maximum Ride, or Friends. Or anything. Don't sue.

Anyway, let the plot twists ensue!

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><p>It had been roughly three months since I woke up on my living room floor next to a naked Starbucks barista named Fang with slight hangover.<p>

Before you ask how I know of his status as a barista, I ran into him at his Starbucks. It was awkward.

Especially considering the fact that I'm probably pregnant. I mean, I _look_ pregnant. I _feel _pregnant. The doctors all say I am.

After the unfortunate event where we had drunk sex in my living room, I figured that's why I was puking nonstop. I decided to go the non-cliche root and just have the damn thing. Why cause an unnecessary mess? I could put it up for adoption. Or abort it. Or something.

I was not planning on him finding out. That was not part of the plan.

It was a Monday afternoon, and I had a pretty ridiculous bump beneath my shirt. Ironically, I had just come back from a wonderful ultrasound visit with a anti-single mother ultrasound technician (as if that helps). He saw me before I saw him.

"Max?" I looked up, recognizing his voice as I stepped to the front of the line. "_Max _?"

I bite my lip. "That would be me."

The Starbucks is practically empty, leaving room for lots of Max/Fang chitchat opportunities.

"How've you been? It's been awhile."

"I've been fine." Instinctively, I pull my hoodie down over my stomach. I said I had a bump, and honestly it was buckets of obvious. I was pregnant, just three months along, and soon I would have trouble getting in my car.

"Is that- oh god- no," He starts and then stops and then starts again. "That's mine."

"Sure is."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Fang hisses in a breath.

"I didn't want to cause problems."

He glares at me, hurt written across his face, in his eyes, in the set of his mouth. Fang glances around, looking at the few people staring at our exchange then pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he looks up and grabs a tall cup and fills it with decaf after scrawling on the side.

"That's my apartment. Be there in at six. We need to talk."

Outside, I chug the decaf and trash the cup. I don't even look at what's written on the side.

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><p>Later, at 6:37, I'm watching reruns of <em>Friends<em> when my doorbell rings, and when I open the door I'm not surprised. I thought about not answering it because I do not feel like dealing with the father of my child.

"Let me in," Fang growls, and I'm tempted to make a reference to the big bad wolf.

I sigh, and step past him, letting him into my apartment.

Might as well be hospitable. "Want anything?" I ask.

He tilts his head back, sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Max, stop procrastinating. You know why I'm here."

"You want the baby. You want to talk about it. You want to fall in love and raise three more of these things and grow old together. That isn't happening." By the end I'm shouting at this man, so much older than me, who I barely know. He's _twenty-seven._ That is _six years _away from me.

"You know what, Max? Yeah, I want all of those things. And yeah, most of them will probably never happen. But guess what? I'm willing to try! That's what matters!" This is Fang's retort to my logic, and it only manages to outrage me more.

"You want to_ try?_ Try? We barely know each other! We met because my mentally unstable mother assaulted you in a hospital and then we got drunk and screwed each other! What a wonderful story to tell those four children of yours!"

So quickly, this little disagreement has transformed into a full-scale fight. We're caught in a tight little corner by my door, him backing me against the wall. Our faces are so close, if you saw us out of context you might assume that makeup sex was soon to follow. Only separated by the subject of our argument, growing inside me. Fang was gripping my left arm lightly, and strangely, I wasn't struggling. He was being gentle. It was like he didn't want to hurt me. Or our baby. And it helped that he was kind of hot. Did I mention that Fang was hot? Even now, at a moment where I'm so livid at him, I find it possible to stare at his dark eyes, his sleek brown hair a little shaggier than normal.

I can't help but hope that the baby looks like him, not me.

He's taken aback by my words, and I'm out of breath.

"Max," Fang starts, his voice quiet. I almost can't hear him whisper my name. "If there wasn't something between us, we never would've made it back to here to shed our clothes anyway. I wouldn't have offered to get your car fixed up." I look up from my feet to see Fang staring at me intently, and suddenly this is a lot more intense than it's supposed to be. I'm not supposed to care about him, but I do.

"Max," He starts again, probably going to make my heart break with more romantic words that my hormonal brain can't handle. "Wanna know what I was thinking while I was talking to you outside your car?"

"What?" is my whispered response.

"Someday, she's going to be my wife." He says, and it's out of character for me, but I kissed him in response, long and sweet.

We were worth a shot.


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